


Pointless Scoring

by melonsflesh



Series: For Richer or Poorer [4]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Nudity (kinda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:06:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonsflesh/pseuds/melonsflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Misaru] Misaki's overconfidence needs a little boost every so often. Saruhiko really thinks it's pointless and there's nothing to prove.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pointless Scoring

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Imagine your OTP lying next to each other in bed, staring at the ceiling, embarrassed by the wild, intense, filthy sex they just had (from imagineyourotp@tumblr).

Past the string of rough pants, a heavy silence followed and Saruhiko had already rolled on his side, turning his back to the redhead, one arm tucked under the pillow his cheek was currently resting on.  _The shirt stays on_ , they agreed on, being the only obstacle between his almost flawless skin — _how dare he_ — and Misaki's. Or part of it, anyways.

The redhead was the first to break the silence. "That was, um... good, right?"

Saruhiko tilted his head, glancing at him over his clothed shoulder. "Presumptuous, aren't we," He taunted, and turned back again, the monotonous tenor never faltering.

"W-what?"

"' _Keep trying'..._ "

...

"' _Look forward to the next time'_..."

...

"' _Don't give up, you can do_ —"

"Stop that! The fuck are you saying?"

And the equally monotonous, recurrent encouraging lines didn't do much to improve his patience, so Saruhiko realized upon glancing at him once again, and noticing the familiar animosity coming to life between Misaki's eyebrows — _that stupid thing he does with his face, that little lump forming above his nose that he'd oh love to put the tip of his index finger over just to mess with him._

"I'm just saying that you may leave a decent impression... some day."

"Hah?! What's that supposed to mean?" By then, the characteristic, triumphal look had found home in Saruhiko's features.

"Figure it out by yourself. It takes more than a few ripped buttons to leave... an impression, anyway."

"Tch. Whatever. I don't need your damn approval."

"Mm? It seems to me like you do."

"I don't, it was just a stupid question, anyways."

"... which needed my approval."

"I said I don't—! A-and you—you aren't  _that_  good anyways!" The redhead slumped down, reclaiming his turn to get on his side, mirroring the position Saruhiko had given him minutes ago, and muttered. "What makes you think you're good, huh? You're not."

... which proves to be a temporary position, as Saruhiko raised and the sudden lack of weight urged the ginger to turn his head in curiosity only to catch the other man starting to climb on top of him. "O-oi!"

With a hum escaping his mouth, Saruhiko parted his legs and rested his knees on either side of the vanguard's waist as he straddled his lap and a wide grin finally curved his lips.

"You really need me to say it?" He practically purred, and if only Misaki could swallow the lump in his throat and appease the tickling waving in his stomach after watching the blue-haired coming  _back_  to him, reviving short intervals of flashbacks of their previous... happening. "You really want me to tell you how good it was?" And  _how ironic_ , the swordsman thought, that the current flush of red deliciously tainting the vanguard's cheeks didn't match the previous almost  _animalistic_ impulses that had raged through him not so long ago, and which had, indeed, left a rather decent impression on his mind.

He could already hear Misaki's ' _You bastard_ '; hopefully, Misaki wasn't a mind-reader, and Saruhiko's was especially difficult to read. But he could indulge him a little; spoil him, even.

Leaning towards the ginger's ear, provocation coated his tone as his words caressed Misaki's eardrums. "Yes. Yes, it was  _good_."

Having been somewhat  _pleased_ , Misaki didn't let such sense of self-importance reach his features, however, and so he tipped his head to the side, faking having ignored the little rush of  _pride_  —and the always persistent embarrassment—, and insisted on burying his teeth into his lower lip, as if the indomitable blushing would diminish with each scrape of his incisors.

"O-okay... I get it."

The swordsman's grin found Misaki's temple, lips placing a soundless kiss before quickly seeking the redhead's, capturing the pouting pair and slowly, gently, slipping his tongue in, delighting every crevice of his mouth as he pressed down against the ginger's body. As they both closed their eyes, Misaki's hands slipped to the light fabric over his partner's pale shoulders and traveled down the clothed body, soon reaching his bare legs. Twitching fingers pressed on Saruhiko's thighs, imprinting little whitened spots over his skin and wherever his digits landed.

Saruhiko nibbled on his lips before pulling back, leaving a decent space between them to keep their gazes connected and hear Misaki's "Bastard," right as he allowed another smirk to stretch his lips. And he thought  _Yes, he would spoil him_.

"I particularly liked it when you stuck your fingers in—"

"I SAID I GET IT, DAMMIT!"

Misaki quickly wound his arms around Saruhiko's hips, effectively shutting him up.

\- - - - - - - - - -


End file.
